


One Day

by spinsters_grave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I live for exposing characters), Gen, Non-explicit character death, YET ANOTHER BONUS SCENE FROM YOURS TRULY, Zarkon-centric fic, massive time skips, the ultimate backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9520079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: A quick rise to power, some divine force, and childhood dreams sound good on paper. In practice, however, it rarely works out in anyone’s favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Read it on Tumblr here:   
> https://reaadmydumbfanfiction.tumblr.com/post/156586443073/one-day

“One day,” Zarkon said, staring up at the stars twinkling above his planet, “I will hold you in the palm of my hand. I will walk with giants and swirl cloud nebulae with my pinkie fingers. I will dance on dying planets and I will make the universe my plaything. When one star dies, I will create another from its burning ashes. I will sing with dark matter and warp space and time. One day, I will hold you stars in my hands.”

 

“Zarkon,” his mother called, “it is too cold outside for you to be staring at the sky. Come inside right this minute.”

 

Zarkon snapped out of his trance. He spared one last glance for the stars glittering in the sky, then walked back to his warm house with his hands in his pockets.

 

***

 

It was a promise that was supposed to be kept. (Zarkon stood at the place reserved for the top of the class, the place where he was supposed to give an inspiring speech to the recently graduated. He hadn’t come prepared.)

 

Holding the stars. (As he stood there, the vast room absolutely devoid of noise, he couldn’t find it in himself to improvise a speech. It would be shoddy and obviously unprepared.) Mixing the sky together.

 

He didn’t know if he would have said anything else if his mother hadn’t interrupted him. Maybe he would have. Maybe he wouldn’t have. (A cough, and a rustle of cloth, made Zarkon’s breath catch in his throat. He should have been prepared.)

 

(“A promise is, by definition, something meant to be unbroken,” he said. Where were these words coming from? “But there are little promises broken every day, by you and me and our superiors.”) Maybe he would have said something more profoundly deep than he already did.

 

More things about the stars. They were fascinating, honestly. (“We’ll say, yes, I did study, to our parents. They’ll say, no, we weren’t making out.” A light chuckle ran through the audience.)

 

(“And we’ll say to ourselves, one more fancy meal. Or we’ll say that we don’t need to eat as much today as we did yesterday.” Zarkon paused, then continued. “And they’ll say, For the glory of the Galra Empire.”) 

 

It was a risk. He knew that. (“But that’s just a little promise.” People were sitting up, more alert than before. “Just a little broken promise. Not even worth mentioning, of course, on a platform such as this.”)

 

Maybe more about possessing the universe. He’d like that, one day. (“And so I digress. Promises are meant to be saved, to be cherished.” Okay. Backtracking was good. “Promises are incredibly important, anyone can tell you.”)

 

(“So you need to promise to yourself that you’ll be successful, that you’ll take the universe by storm, and fire, and all the accoutrements of the ending, and you will bend it to your will.” A promise to himself, a promise made by hundreds of graduating scholars. They were ready to take the world by the throat. “Take it by the throat and bring your fate to kneel at your feet. It belongs to you, and you need to promise to yourselves that you’ll never forget that.” Zarkon paused. There wasn’t anything else he needed to say. “Thank you.”)

 

(Applause. Zarkon stood there in front of the podium, not sure if he was shaking or if the planet was trembling beneath his feet. If it was, no one else in the auditorium could feel it.) He’d like to control the universe one day.

 

***

 

The Galra Military Academy was a venerated old school. Of course Zarkon would go there after his primary years.

 

They noticed his excellence straight away, of course, and placed him in one of the more advanced classes. Zarkon could keep up. It was the rest of the class who had trouble keeping up with  _ him. _

 

Zarkon learned effective leadership and how to partition resources and how to cut losses. He wouldn’t say he became more ruthless during his time in the Academy, though it did help him hone his leadership skills.

 

You don’t have to do much to graduate the Galra Military Academy. Just write a thesis paper or prove yourself in a battle. Zarkon decided to prove himself in battle.

 

And he did. And he did, again. The Galra military saw Zarkon improve and improve and rise in their ranks, and they said to themselves, ‘This boy is going to go places.’

 

And he did. Eventually, Zarkon became a general. He sat at the right hand of the king himself, Sandor, and while they dined with the rest of the universe Zarkon plotted deep and dark inside his mind.

 

There was a military coup. Zarkon, of course, was the leader of it all.

 

He wanted to be called ‘king.’ Over time, that would change to ‘emperor,’ but that time had not come yet. Galra allies were not displeased with the coup; Sandor was a weak king who was content to wait things out and let his advisors make decisions without him. Zarkon vowed to be a more direct ruler. 

 

He changed the rules of the Galra Military Academy, just the slightest bit, for his first act as ruler.  _ To graduate from the Academy, _ he wrote, _ a cadet must prove their worth to the Galra legacy and their dedication to our cause and their unwavering loyalty, and a cadet must win in a match to the death against another cadet. _

 

Galra allies were worried, all of a sudden, but Zarkon assured them it was just the Galra way. Victory or death. 

 

The second act Zarkon did as king was to send his guards to kill the people he plotted with. They were the craftiest of the bunch- if anyone was to kill Zarkon at this point in his career, while he was still on a perilous precipice of victory or death, it would be them. And Zarkon was planning on ruling for a very long time.

 

The third act Zarkon did as emperor was to kill his family. They would only get in the way, and they could be used against Zarkon. He didn’t personally attend their execution. It would have stirred up emotions that Zarkon didn’t want to feel. 

 

***

 

There was a party, one night, years after his rule was established. Altea was there, along with the Olkari, the Lwian, and the Qataarans. The party lasted for days. Never let it be known that Zarkon was an ungracious host.

 

On the dawn of the third day, a meteor crashed onto Zarkon’s planet. Zarkon, King Alfor of Altea, and the High Priestess of Qataar all went to investigate, while the Olkari and the Lwian representatives stayed back. More loss them.

 

The meteor was black but sparkled gold, the color of royalty. Zarkon stood beside Alfor, and he thought that gold was fitting for this.

 

“We need to do something with this,” Zarkon said. “I cannot have this space rock on my planet without it doing anything.”

 

“We should make it into a lion,” King Alfor said, stars glittering in his eyes.

 

“I beg your pardon,” the High Priestess of Qataar said. “A lion? And how would you propose to do that? I have seen your lions- they are not nearly the size of this rock. And what would be the purpose of said lion?”

 

“It will be a war machine,” Zarkon said. “Capable of destroying planets.”

 

“Indeed,” King Alfor said.

 

The High Priestess of Qataar took a step back from Zarkon and Alfor, who stood on a ledge in front of the pit the meteor came in, who had glory in their eyes and battle in their hearts. They would hold the universe in the palms of their hands.

 

***

 

Alteans had magic running through their veins, Zarkon knew. So did Galran blood. The Lwians did not, though they could create magical effects through artificial means; the Qataraans had divine powers. They did not call it magic.

 

Altean magic was clean and powerful. It was more of a life force than a manipulative force; it created hope and peace. Alteans put peace first. So King Alfor decided that this giant lion that would be a ‘war machine’ would run on Altean magic. For peace.

 

King Alfor called his magic ‘quintessence.’ By his definition, quintessence meant the fundamental aspect of any one thing- Zarkon simplified it to ‘personality.’ 

 

The Meteor Lion, as it was called, took a while to build. Zarkon was not an engineer, so he let the Alteans and all them create what they needed to create. Zarkon just wanted to fly it.

 

Because of course the Lion would fly. It would fly in space, it would fly in atmosphere. Zarkon needed it to fly. He needed to fulfill that insane childish wish, to control the stars.

 

That childhood dream that was quickly becoming reality. Zarkon took to standing on a balcony, looking at both his Lion being built (because of course he was going to own it) and his stars. He’d fly off to far-distant planets, and like he’d said years and years ago, he’d take the universe by storm, and fire, and all the accoutrements of the ending.

 

The Lion was completed physically. King Alfor said that there needed to be some magical things that needed to happen, and for now, Zarkon was content to watch and wait. He’d wait ten thousand years if he needed to.

 

“The Meteor Lion will bond with a pilot that is a strong leader and whose people will follow without question,” Alfor said. “It’s so no one else can pilot it but you, Zarkon.”

 

Zarkon let a smile cross his face, and forced it to be open and caring. Grateful. “Thank you, Alfor. I am in your debt.”

 

***

 

Four other meteors landed, in quick succession. One on Lwian, one on Qataar, one on Olkari, and one on Altea.

 

“If that’s not a sign from the Divinity, I don’t know what is,” Alfor said. “Five meteors? Each landing on the most influential planets of our generation? We have to create more lions. Listen- we could create a super-weapon, with all five lions merging together to form the ultimate soldier!”

 

Stars glimmered in Alfor’s eyes. Zarkon let no emotion show on his face (an easy feat, considering his biology) and quietly thought,  _ And I’ll form the head. The decisive leader. _

 

“We’ve got a theme going with the Meteor Lion,” the Qataaran High Priestess said. “Can we even still call it that? They’d all be meteor lions. Anyway, the- Galra Lion, it’s got leadership qualities- Alfor, could you use your divine powers to give the other meteor lions traits for the ultimate super soldier? There are five, it can’t be too difficult. And they’d need to work in tandem, too.” She trailed off. “There is so much to think about in this situation. It is unprecedented in all of our histories.”

 

“Indeed,” the Olkari representative said. “I propose calling them different colors for simplicity. Ours shall be the Green lion, for the mighty forest we found its meteor in. I believe they all should have unique powers, such as land, and forest, and fire. So on.”

 

“The pilots should be able to defend themselves,” Zarkon found prudent to say. “In case their lions fail. Alfor, you’d be able to make special weapons that take the shape of their pilot’s soul weapon, right?”

 

“That’s more up your alley,” Alfor told Zarkon, sounding just a tad uncomfortable. “And I don’t think the lions would fail.”

 

“We’ll call it Voltron,” the Qataraan High Priestess said. “After the angel.”

 

_ Voltron,  _ Zarkon thought. Sounded good enough. 

 

Later, when Alfor and Zarkon were alone together, Alfor said, “There is so much hanging on all of this. Imagine, Zarkon- a universe united in peace we created.” Alfor breathed out, those stars in his eyes again. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Alfor certainly was a visionary. Zarkon respected that about him. There was always room for a visionary in a team that as set to take over- well, bring peace to the universe. Zarkon had a slightly different vision of universal peace than Alfor, though, because he was imagining his family sigil dancing above the skies of planets across the universe.

 

“I’ll make the weapons,” Zarkon said, because he knew what Alfor needed to hear. “And I’ll help with the magical parts of the lions. And once they’re all completed, we’ll know how to make them into a bipedal together- one can be the head, two can be the arms, two can be the legs. Does that make sense?”

 

Alfor smiled. Altean faces always revealed more emotions than Galra faces. “Who’ll be the torso?”

 

Zarkon shrugged. “The same person who’s the head, I guess. Which planets will be which parts, do you think?”

 

“Well, you’re the first, and you’re the intellectual and leader part of Voltron- you should be the head, the seat of power,” Alfor said. He tried to be nonchalant, but Zarkon knew his friend better than his friend knew himself. “And I’m your second in command, your right hand man- so I’ll be the literal right hand. Olkari can be the left hand. That leaves Qataar and Lwiowl to be the legs. You know, we should make it so that the sizes make sense and that the attributes of the lions match their places on the body.”

 

“You should be fire,” Zarkon said. “Bright and burning, just like you. Instinctual, gut feelings. Soldiers need that. And you’d be red, because red fire, right? And Qataar can be blue and water, because they’ve got the most beautiful beaches, and they’ll be about faith because they’re all so faithful. And supportive, like the leg. I’ll be sky, and black, because space is sky and space is endlessly black.”

 

“Yeah,” Alfor said. Without knowing it, they’d ended up at a balcony overlooking the stars above Zarkon’s planet. “We’ll defend the universe.”

 

_ From what, _ Zarkon wanted to ask, but he knew from what already.

 

***

 

Like Alfor and Zarkon had planned. 

 

Zarkon, the sky paladin, the Black and Galra and Meteor and Original Lion’s pilot, the leader and decision-maker of Voltron. With his bayard, Zarkon decided to call it, Zarkon summoned a retractable whip- a weapon he’d never seen before. He didn’t know what to call it, but it was beyond powerful.

 

Alfor, the fire paladin, the Red Lion’s pilot, was the gut instinct of Voltron. With his bayard, Alfor summoned a small laser cannon. It could fit into his hand.

 

“I’m going to create weapons based off of this for my own military,” Alfor said. “Yours too, Zarkon.”

 

Rykar, the Olkari forest paladin, the Green Lion’s pilot, was the number cruncher of Voltron. She could calculate the exact angle needed to kick an enemy fleet into the next galaxy over. Her bayard was merely an extension of her power over vines- a three-pronged whip. Not like Zarkon’s at all, though they both quietly laughed with each other about how similar their weapons were.

 

The High Priestess of Qataar’s name was Cellisia. She wanted them all to call her Cellie, though. 

 

“You know, I never actually knew your name before all this,” Zarkon told her. “I like it, Cellie.”

 

Cellie laughed over the comms. “Thanks, Zarkon.”

 

Cellie was the paladin of water, the Blue Lion’s pilot, and the one with the faith needed to say ‘we’ll win this.’ Like water, she was flowing and always changing; soothing and relaxing. Her bayard took the shape of a trident with the longest reach that was still physically plausible.

 

Aiber, the Lwian paladin, was the paladin of land and the Yellow Lion’s pilot. He was the strongest leg, the most supportive, and the most caring of all the paladins. He was also the biggest, though Zarkon stood at his chin. Aiber’s bayard took the form of a much bigger cannon than Alfor’s, and with its size, it came with much more power.

 

They didn’t form Voltron yet. Alfor said that it would take time, and a deep connection between the paladins. There must be no secrets within Voltron, no hidden agendas, only trust and family.

 

Meanwhile, they fought space pirates together. It was fun, yes, but not taxing in the slightest. But they did grow as a team, close enough that one day- there Voltron was. It was a small shock to everyone, then Cellie said over the comms, “This is… is this Voltron?”

 

Alfor let out a barking laugh. “We did it. I can’t believe it! We did it!”

 

The paladins of Voltron burst out into laughter. “We did it,” Alfor said again.

 

Now that they had Voltron, they were just waiting until something worthy of a gigantic metal angel came up that they had to fight. It didn’t happen for years. The paladins developed their powers, special things their lions could do. Alfor called it ‘a bond so special, you’re not even two separate things inside one thing, you  _ are _ your lion and you can see through her eyes, Zarkon, it’s amazing.’

 

The Black Lion was resistant, to say the least. Maybe she could sense her paladin’s intentions with the universe.

 

_ They’re not bad intentions, _ Zarkon tried to tell her.  _ I want to be able to hold the universe in my hand. Is that so bad? _

 

The Black Lion didn’t say anything, only implied a sense of ‘fine.’ Zarkon smiled, the most he could with his reptilian biology. “We’re going to do great things,” he whispered out loud.

 

***

 

“Cellie, Aiber, give me full engines,” Zarkon said. “We need to be on the other side of this planet five minutes ago, okay?”

 

“On it,” Cellie said. She pushed hard on her thrusters, and Aiber matched her push for push. Voltron rushed forward.

 

Zarkon narrowed his eyes a sliver.  _ Come on, _ he thought to Black,  _ there are abilities you haven’t shown me yet. Show me! _

 

Voltron shuddered slightly. Zarkon didn’t know if anyone else felt it, or if it was just excitement coursing through his veins. Something clanked inside of his lion, and the red extensions on Voltron’s back that Zarkon thought were just to form the shield glowed for a moment and threw off sparks, forming- feathers?

 

Zarkon sat in his pilot’s chair, vaguely stunned. The sounds of admiration from his other paladins reached Zarkon, but only faintly. Wings?

 

Voltron flew faster. Those wings seemed to give Voltron a boost of speed, and they circled the lifeless planet in under thirty ticks.

 

“What was that?” Cellie asked, wonder apparent in her voice.

 

“I don’t know,” Alfor said. “I know, I know, I made the thing, but… apparently the magic has evolved. The Black Lion is supposed to be spirit and sky, right?”

 

“Fitting that the mechanical angel gets wings,” Aiber mused. 

 

Zarkon sat in his pilot’s seat, still not over what just happened. Was this always able to happen? What could he use this for?

 

Voltron shuddered slightly again, like he was trying to shake off a bug. 

 

***

 

Cellie and Zarkon went walking in the lush gardens of the Qataaran capital. It was dusk, and stars were beginning to glimmer in the night sky. Cellie pointed out a constellation.

 

“It’s the water bearer,” she said. “He’s holding a vase on his shoulder and giving the universe water, see? The people have said that he’s just like me. I don’t know, though.”

 

“Of course he’s like you,” Zarkon said. “You’ve told me his legend, I think- a man with a superior calling, who feels torn between his home and his destiny. He gives his home everything he can before he leaves for his fate, and when his quest is done, he realizes how he helped keep his home from devastation by following his fate.”

 

“Yes,” Cellie said. They both paused, at a gently flowing fountain. They were hidden from the main palace by large shrubs. 

 

“You know,” Cellie said, “I’ve always admired the way the sea reflects the sky. You can see the stars in both. And when you scoop up the water-” Cellie knelt by the fountain and scooped up the water, holding a glob in her cupped hands- “you hold the universe in your palms.”

 

Zarkon took a step closer to Cellie. They were about the same height, Zarkon noticed, and he cupped his hands around Cellie’s, holding the universe with her. Zarkon stared deep into the glob of water, almost to the point of his shadow blocking out the light. 

 

This had been his dream since he was a young boy. Holding the universe in the palm of his hand, watching the stars glimmer along his palms. It felt gratifying, but still nowhere near enough.

 

Zarkon’s eyes flicked up to Cellie, who was watching him with the reflection of a reflection dancing in her deep eyes. They stayed like that for a small minute, or a long minute, before Cellie closed the distance between them and lightly pressed her lips to Zarkon’s rough face.

 

She drew away with a small smile on her face, pleased at her transgression. Zarkon blinked, and found he did not mind the kiss. It was, in fact, kind of pleasant.

 

They did not kiss again until Zarkon let Cellie put the glob of water down. And then they almost attacked each other with lips, and Cellie threw her arms around Zarkon’s neck, and Zarkon held Cellie’s waist in his hands. 

 

And all they did was kiss. For a long while. Cellie did shove a hand up Zarkon’s light tunic (for this was before the days when Zarkon wore armour constantly, for fear of betrayal), but Zarkon’s own hands did not move from her hips, and his face did not move from her own. It wasn’t that the kisses weren’t pleasant. They were. Zarkon just had bigger plans than romance.

 

After that banquet, Cellie became more clingy with Zarkon. The others noticed, of course, no secrets between Voltron, and Alfor was pouty for a day before he got over himself. Cellie and Zarkon kissed sometimes. After small battles, before dinner, during parties held in their honor.

 

Altea held a banquet one night. Alfor’s tiny daughter was there, as was his wife, Alladosia. Zarkon held Allura in his hands and cooed at her tiny face while Cellie looked over his shoulder with a loving gaze. Infants always brought out something fragile in Zarkon, something Zarkon squished down. Fragile emotions were nothing necessary for the future ruler of the universe.

 

It was a week after that that Alladosia became majorly ill. (It may or may not have had anything to do with the small vial Zarkon had a servant slip into Alladosia’s drink, passing it off as an aphrodisiac for her and the mister later that night.) And a week after that, Alladosia moved onto the next life.

 

There was a funeral, as there always was. Zarkon was not close to Alladosia, so he was not invited to speak. But he was asked to accompany Alfor to his room after the funeral for emotional support.

 

No secrets between Voltron, Zarkon had said when Alfor laid a hand on his knee.

 

This one will be fine, Alfor said.

 

***

 

Altea entered a mourning period. Alfor was closed off from the rest of the universe, Zarkon included, and Voltron could not be formed.

 

Zarkon did not tell Cellie about his and Alfor’s transgression. He did not find it prudent.

 

And so, a year and a half passed, and Alfor came back to Voltron a different man. He was not as impulsive, he was not as bright, he was not as much a visionary as he once was.

 

The rest of the paladins met him one day, while he was walking out of the Red Lion. They had conversed long and hard about this, and they had come to a general agreement.

 

Alfor was the shortest paladin. It was a common event at any banquet for the paladins to tower over the people who hosted them. 

 

Cellie and Aiber were chosen to break the news to Alfor, because they were the kindest of all the paladins.

 

Aiber laid a hand on Alfor’s shoulder, forcing the king to look up at him. “We believe that you should not pilot the Red Lion anymore,” he said.

 

Alfor blinked for a long (a short) moment, then shook his head. Altean faces were always so expressive, Zarkon knew. They could see the sharp disbelief on his face.

 

“No,” Alfor breathed.

 

“No,” Alfor repeated, stronger this time. “I need to be strong for Altea, for my daughter. I’m out of mourning, I just- I needed a moment to deal with my emotions without recording devices being shoved into my face, and being in Voltron- it let me do that. 

 

“I’m sorry. I really am. And I’ll be better this time, I just- no. No excuses. I’ll pilot the Red Lion to the best of my ability, I will,” Alfor said, growing more desperate with every word.

 

The other paladins shared a look between each other, then came to an agreement. (A far cry from when they barely remembered each other’s names.) 

 

“Very well,” Zarkon said, “you can keep the Red Lion.

 

“But,” he said, taking several intimidating steps to loom over Alfor, “if this is a recurring problem, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the Red Lion. Understood?”

 

Alfor’s face reddened the slightest bit. (Emotional Altean faces.) “Understood,” he croaked.

 

“Good,” Zarkon said, and turned sharply on his heel to begin walking away. The other paladins fell into step behind him, and one of them hurried a little to catch up with him- Zarkon was expecting Cellie, honestly, but he wasn’t surprised to see Alfor either.

 

They didn’t say anything as they walked together, and that was how Zarkon liked it. They were both different people, different from when they would roam the halls of Zarkon’s palace to find balconies to stare at the stars. The nature of their relationship had changed- no less strong than it was before, but different.

 

Cellie broke off with Aiber and Ryker to play Snap. Zarkon and Alfor kept walking. Still silent, all the way up to Zarkon’s quarters. He paused outside the door.

 

Alfor said, “I wanted to thank you. For snapping me out of my mind back there.”

 

Zarkon laid a hand on Alfor’s shoulder and let warmth and kindness flood his face. “That’s what friends do.”

 

Alfor followed Zarkon into his bedroom, and while nothing much came of it, Zarkon felt like he should let Cellie know. But he never did.

 

***

 

The Galra Military Academy was cranking out soldiers like there was no tomorrow. 

 

Along with his Voltron duties, Zarkon had a planet to run, like Cellie and Alfor. They couldn’t be together all the time, but they couldn’t be on their planets all the time, either. Zarkon requested time off from Voltron thrice a year for a month to deal with his planet. While he was away, he relied on his vast network of command to keep things running smoothly in his place. He’d video call them, give instructions, then leave for them.

 

And the Academy was turning out soldiers who were ruthless and utterly, utterly loyal. Zarkon smiled, and passed new laws to make his planet run more efficiently and the way he wanted it to. Alfor did not really approve, and neither did the rest of Voltron, but Zarkon told them that Voltron would need a full fleet behind him one day. It was easy to convince them.

 

Black rumbled disapprovingly sometimes, but Zarkon soothed her too. It was for backup. It was for the glory of Voltron and the Galra Empire. War was hard.

 

The universe needed Voltron. And Voltron needed an army. Never mind that said army was loyal to the Galra empire and Zarkon himself. Really, the Galra worked for the interests of Voltron- the king was the literal head of that super soldier. Zarkon didn’t have to stretch it much to make his paladins trust him.

 

***

 

And so Zarkon had an army, and utter and complete control over Voltron. He stood on his balcony, watching his armies assemble and train. There were some promising cadets that their superiors pointed out to Zarkon. He felt something- a stirring in his chest, a spring in his step. He didn’t find the word to describe it.

 

Cellie laid a hand on Zarkon’s shoulder. It was nothing but sheer force that made Zarkon not flinch.

 

They stood there for a solid minute. Cellie clearly had something to say, and Zarkon would give her time to compose herself.

 

Cellie said, “I’m pregnant.”

 

***

 

Qataarans didn’t have a long incubation period. Five Galran months, about the same as Galrans themselves. So even with this mix of species (Zarkon couldn’t believe a mix of their species could even be born), their son was born quickly enough.

 

“I’ll name him Lotor,” the High Priestess of Qataar said, lying on her birthing bed. Her brow was slick with sweat, and she cradled their son in her arms. Like every birthing room, light came in from wide windows and streamed over the bed in long stripes. Lotor was born under the sun- a blessed child, Cellie said.

 

“Why Lotor?” With Qataarans, everything had a religious meaning. Zarkon knew this- they had been married two months prior, and the wedding had been a true experience. Alfor had been his best man. 

 

“Lotor is the name of a saint. Like Voltron is an angel, Lotor is his- home base, is the best way to describe it. Of course, neither of them can compare to the power of Divinity, but they’re pretty up there,” Cellie said. 

 

Zarkon gently took Lotor from Cellie. Lotor stretched one tiny fist up, where a beam of light hit it. He glowed softly lilac, like Zarkon. “Dominant genes,” Zarkon rumbled. “Galra genes are always dominant.”

 

Cellie made a demure sound. “Yes, but don’t be surprised if his Qataaran traits shine through, either.” Her eyes were locked on Lotor, held protectively in Zarkon’s arms. “He’s got a soldier face.”

 

“Yes,” Zarkon said. He already had plans for his son- the Academy, where he will thrive, and later a command within his army. Maybe even control of a Voltron lion- a paladin like his father. The Red Lion would be appropriate, as his right-hand-man. 

 

Cellie and Zarkon stayed in the light birthing room for hours, doting over their son. The other paladins of Voltron came to offer their congratulations, and cooed over Lotor the appropriate amount. Even Alfor, who had seemed a little distant since Zarkon’s marriage.

 

No hard feelings, Alfor had said to Zarkon the day before the wedding. 

 

Of course not, Zarkon had replied. They were still friends. They had a special bond, one forged of friendship and hardship. That couldn’t very well be broken now.

 

***

 

Zarkon pet Black’s nose. “You will still be mine, yes?” he murmured into the room.

 

Black purred, infatuated with her paladin. He was working in the interest of Voltron and the protection of the universe, though this wasn’t exactly the way the rest of them pictured. But he was the original paladin, the one with the original vision and mission. She would support him.

 

She would be his. Even if it had been ten thousand years, they would still be Lion and Paladin. She had been made for him.

 

***

 

Alfor had grown a beard. That was the first thing Zarkon noticed, after his month-long vacation to oversee his planet. It had been in the works for a while, but this was more than anything Alfor had let grow before.

 

“We’re getting older,” Alfor said. His daughter stood on the bridge, conversing pleasantly with an orange-haired Altean. Apparently, silver hair was a royalty-only Altean trait. “Figured I’d show that off. We’re wise and experienced, Zarkon.”

 

Zarkon saw the pep somehow returned to Alfor- more than ever since his wife died, all those years ago. “Yes,” Zarkon said. “A shame Galra cannot grow facial hair.”

 

Alfor laughed, and gently punched Zarkon on the arm. “You totally can grow facial hair. You just choose not to.”

 

Zarkon huffed slightly, the most he could get to genuine amusement. Galra faces couldn’t truly smile. It was a quirk of their rather reptilian DNA. “You got me.”

 

Alfor smiled at him. “Ready to go save the universe?”

 

Zarkon hesitated. “You go ahead. I have some things to talk about with- Coran. About the lions.”

 

Alfor’s face dropped. He could see something in Zarkon’s face, which should have been impossible- Galra faces didn’t show emotion. End of story. “Alright,” he said, after some hesitation. “I’ll meet you outside.”

 

Zarkon watched him go. There were some mixed emotions- he hated that this would be the last he saw of his friend, as his friend; but he was finally going to hold the universe in his hands. 

 

“Hate to see them leave, love to watch them go,” the orange-haired Altean said suddenly. Zarkon didn’t jump, didn’t flinch. Things were happening all of a sudden recently. “What did you want to talk to me about? You know, my grandfather built this castle six hundred years ago, Divinity rest his soul. I know more about it than any Altean alive.”

 

The Altean princess leaned around Coran and gave Zarkon a distrustful look. Zarkon remembered his son talking about her at the banquet held a few weeks ago, and how he didn’t think Burn Worms were such a good idea. Zarkon told him not to tell his mother.

 

Allura Alforschild had released a statement about how she trusted the Galra empire. Even though, it seemed like she held reservations about Zarkon. 

 

“Hello?” Coran asked. “What did you want to ask me about?”

 

Zarkon let his eyes slide over to Coran, even though the Alteans wouldn’t realize what had changed. Most other aliens couldn’t tell the subtle changes on Galran faces. Alfor could. Cellie was getting there.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just remembered that I need to check my lion’s back thrusters. They were acting up. I’m afraid I will take some time. I guess I don’t need you after all.”

 

Coran twirled his moustache. His eyes were wide, and his voice was serious. “I see.”

 

Zarkon had no doubt he did.

 

***

 

He headed for Black’s hanger, yes, but on the way there were the escape pods. He couldn’t take Black where he was going. 

 

Coran had radioed Alfor and the others to begin their exercises without Zarkon. He would take some time, Coran had said. Don’t wait up for him.

 

Zarkon hesitated for a step, then pressed on forward. No time for doubts now, not this close. He was the decisive head of Voltron, the decision-maker. And he had made this decision a long time ago. 

 

He stood in front of the escape pod, loaded with Zarkon’s coordinates. Yes, he was planning on going back home. He had an army to run, after all. 

 

***

 

He told a reporter that the Galra had released the Burn Worm. He didn’t answer Alfor’s frantic messages, or Cellie’s. And he ordered a blockade around his planet. He had to enact his plan.

 

***

 

He didn’t answer Alfor’s messages, but he read them. Princess Allura had been put into a sleeping pod, after Zarkon told Alfor whatever he had told him. He couldn’t quite remember his entire speech.

 

***

 

Cellie hovered outside Galra airspace in her lion. She didn’t send or do anything, just hovered there. Zarkon got used to seeing her there when he went outside. His wife probably wanted her son back. 

 

Lotor wanted to stay with his father. He was about ready for his graduation ceremony from the Academy, and he wanted a place in Zarkon’s command. Zarkon couldn’t have been more proud.

 

***

 

Zarkon felt it when the Black Lion disowned him, but he quickly regained her favor. She was his. He was hers. The original paladin, the first one chosen by some divine force.

 

He felt when she begrudgingly took on a new paladin, forced upon her by Alfor and the rest of them so they could form Voltron. The new paladin couldn’t come close to unlocking Black’s traits. They weren’t anywhere close the leader Zarkon was. 

 

When Voltron came within a galaxy of Zarkon, he could simply take control of his lion again and eject the new paladin. He knew Black wanted to be with him, but as he had explained to her, she couldn’t follow him to where he was going.

 

***

 

An Altean appeared in Zarkon’s throne room. One moment there was silence, and Zarkon sat on his throne, looking disapprovingly down at a disappointed commander. The next second, black smoke filled the room, and a white-haired woman with violet marking under her eyes appeared in the throne room. She called herself Alladosia, though Zarkon knew that would soon change.

 

She said she would be glad to serve the new emperor. Zarkon huffed in amusement on his throne. He liked that- Emperor Zarkon. 

 

***

 

A blast rocked his planet. Zarkon felt it in his palace. Alladosia appeared in his throne room (one day he would get used to that, but for now he did not flinch) and told him that Voltron had appeared in Galran airspace and that they all needed to get off-planet immediately.

 

“There’s not enough time or resources to get all of my citizens off-planet,” Zarkon said. He dismissed all the commanders from his room and made them get their families and gather in the air fields.

 

“Most of your military are already in the air,” Alladosia said. “Your empire will survive, and thrive.”

 

“But the civilians,” Zarkon said. “They’re innocent.”

 

Alladosia had nothing to say, but Zarkon knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and focused on Black.

 

_ I know you can hear me, _ he told the imitator paladin inside of her.  _ I need time to give my civilians a chance to get off-planet. If you have an ounce of decency inside of you, you will give me a month before you destroy my home. _

 

He gave the imitator paladin time to communicate his message to Voltron. Meanwhile, he asked Black to stay still- she was influenced by the other lions and paladins from being inside Voltron, but he could still reach the essence of her. 

 

_ Zarkon, _ Cellie said suddenly.  _ You’re in here. Don’t you dare try to run away from me now, or I swear to Divinity I will destroy your planet, Voltron on my side or no. _

 

_ Okay, _ Zarkon said, taken aback.  _ I’m listening. _

 

_ Give me back by son,  _ Cellie growled.  _ I don’t care about anything else. I want my son back, you son of a bitch! _

 

The sheer force of Cellie’s anger made Zarkon take a step back in the real world. As if in a dream, he heard Alladosia react with uncertainty- she was yet unexperienced. She didn’t know what do with Zarkon while he was like this.

 

_ He wants to be here, _ Zarkon told her.  _  He’s almost ready to graduate from the Academy. _

 

_ I know what you do in that Academy of yours,  _ Cellie hissed.  _ I told you I didn’t want my son anywhere near that hellhole, but did you listen? No! _

 

_ He wants to be here, _ Zarkon repeated.

 

_ What, no apology? Divinity damn you! _

 

Zarkon was knocked out of the connection he had with Voltron, and he came back into his body blinking. Alladosia hovered at his side, unsure what to do. Zarkon wasn’t sure what to do himself.

 

Cellie’s curse was powerful. She was still the High Priestess of Qataar- she carried power in saying the Divinity’s name. It made Zarkon worry for half a second.

 

***

 

True to their word, Voltron gave Zarkon one month to get his civilians off-planet. He built shuttles himself, lending his incredible power and resources to this effort. Almost every citizen was on a distant moon by the time Voltron came back and Zarkon met them with his full air force and himself, boosted in quintessence given to him by Alladosia.

 

***

 

Zarkon watched an empty hunk of rock get smaller and smaller. His planet had one large hole in it, courtesy of the Blue Lion. It was the size of a continent and drilled straight through so that Zarkon could see the stars glittering on the other side.

 

***

 

He did not dance on dying planets like he told himself he would all those years ago. 

 

***

 

Alladosia had done something wrong. A stupid blunder or a mistake. Whatever it was, it came at the exact wrong time- Zarkon was still grieving for his lost home (he would grieve forever, but today was especially bad). His emotions were running high.

 

“You  _ hag,” _ he spat at her. “You are not worthy of the name Alladosia- you don’t even know what it means, you  _ hag!” _

 

Alladosia cowered in front of him. She was not yet the steel-spined, hooded figure feared by all- right now, she was just a frightened, inexperienced girl. “My lord,” she stammered, “I’m so sorry-”

 

“Be sorry when you’re dead,” Zarkon growled. “Haggar.”

 

She bowed her head. “Yes, Emperor Zarkon.”

 

***

 

Zarkon assembled his air force. They were strong, all graduates from the Academy and all utterly loyal to Zarkon. With only four paladins- Zarkon had made sure that no one but himself would ever pilot the Galra Lion- Alfor and Cellie were helpless against the Galran fleet.

 

He scattered the lions to the far corners of the universe the instant he could get his hands on them. Unfortunately, Alfor had the foresight to lock the Black Lion away before Zarkon could get to her. 

 

Zarkon stood in the Altean Castle of Lions, facing King Alfor. They weren’t on the bridge, but they were close enough to it.

 

Alfor had sent his daughter into a cryosleep along with that orange-haired advisor, Coran whatever. It was irksome, but Zarkon didn’t care.

 

“You’re too late,” Alfor said. “I’ve already given my memories to the AI of the castle. Even if my body dies, my mind and my memories will live on.”

 

Zarkon made a noncommittal sound. “I’m sure you’re very proud of yourself.”

 

Alfor’s eyes narrowed. Emotional Altean faces. “You’ll never get the Black Lion back. It’s locked away where you can never see her again, especially not having sent the rest of the lions to far distant corners of the universe. It was foolish to leave them with their paladins- they’ll hide in places you’ll never think of looking, not if you live to be ten thousand years old.

 

“Face it, Zarkon,” Alfor said. “You’ve lost.”

 

“And you think you’ve won?” Zarkon asked, his bayard held loosely at his side. “At what cost? You will never see your friends or your planet ever again. You will never see your family again.”

 

Zarkon leaned down into Alfor’s personal space, so they were face-to-face. “You’ve lost, too. Your lion is gone- we’ve taken her. Your forces are scattered to the wind. You’ll never see Voltron rise again- but when he does, he will be on  _ my  _ side.”

 

Alfor took a step back, horror evident on his face. For once, he had nothing to say.

 

Zarkon straightened his spine. He hummed with power- Haggar had given him extra quintessence for this one mission. The feeling was… exhilarating.

 

Zarkon raised his whip. It had a sharp end, one that could easily pierce several layers of armour and even the hulls of space ships. It would have no problem with the thin cloak Alfor wore.

 

Even so, there was a moment of hesitation. There was always a moment of hesitation. This was his friend, his right hand man for countless years. They had fought innumerable battles side-by-side. They defended the universe together and dreamed of a better place for their children. 

 

But there was the universe to think about, too, and dreams, and so red stained the floor beneath Alfor’s body and painted the tip of Zarkon’s bayard. Altean blood was thick and dark, and it tasted something like licking the side of a Voltron lion.

 

The castle was empty and Altea was mostly evacuated. Zarkon was not so bad that he would fire upon a planet still occupied by innocent civilians when he himself had a month to get all of his own civilians off-planet. He gave Altea two Galran weeks to evacuate their planet, and then he would destroy it like Alfor and Cellie destroyed his own home.

 

***

 

Haggar set the last piece of armour on Zarkon’s shoulders. “I have received news, my Lord, from the edges of the empire,” she said in a newly scratchy voice. “The Blue Paladin is dead.”

 

Zarkon didn’t say anything to that. It had been years since he had heard anything of his fellow paladins or of Alteans. They were allowed to live in his ever-growing empire for now, but they were low-class citizens. In ten thousand years, there wouldn’t be a single pure-blood Altean anywhere in the universe.

 

Cellie was dead. Lotor hadn’t spoken of his mother in years, not since Altea had been destroyed and Qataar soon after. He had hidden in his apartments in Zarkon’s floating palace and didn’t watch Qataar blown to pieces. Zarkon thought he would have been made a better soldier for it, but nevertheless.

 

And still, Cellie was dead. Zarkon had gone down to Qataar a week before it was destroyed and stood in the deserted palace gardens- the exact place where he held a glob of water in Cellie’s hands and thought that was satisfying enough. He did not dance, though he was very tempted to.

 

***

 

Lotor had messed up, and Zarkon sent him away. It had been many decades since Altea had fallen and the Galra empire had risen to control most of the known universe. 

 

They couldn’t have the Crown Prince and Heir to the Galran Empire mess up. Zarkon sent him far away and forgot about him and Cellie.

 

***

 

“My Lord,” Haggar said, hood pushed up in an effort to hide her glowing eyes and purple skin and blood red marks, “We have found a way to make you nigh immortal. You shall live forever on quintessence- we will steal it from planets, we will steal it from stars, we will steal it from the very universe itself. And you will reign forever.”

 

Immortality, but at a cost too high to bear. Zarkon could not hurt his stars. They were the only things he had left to protect.

 

“Only take from planets,” he commanded. “We’ll see what we can do with that.”

 

***

 

The Galra Empire grew and grew and grew. They expanded farther than anyone thought the universe was, and they still had more to take. Glowing Galra eyes were seen across the universe, a sign of solidarity and unification. That’s what Zarkon said it was, at least. Sometimes he didn’t believe himself.

 

He found a way to hold the universe in the palm of his hand. He didn’t know what to call it, but it was purple and glowing and Black was there. Over time, their relationship became strained- she never forgave him for killing Alfor, no matter what excuses he threw at her. She had wanted him to apologize to Cellie before she died. But Zarkon and the Black Lion were still each others, they were. 

 

There were certain practices the Galra empire partook in that Black did not approve of. Zarkon wrote them off as simple entertainment for simple soldiers. Black did not like Haggar- she insisted on calling her Alladosia, and Zarkon shuddered whenever he heard that name. Black didn’t like that he had killed Alladosia, either.

 

The final straw was Zarkon’s treatment of the Red Lion, the last vestige of his closest friend. He strung her up and paraded Galra soldiers in front of her, in an effort to make one of them bond with her. They were the best and the brightest of the Academy. It made no sense. 

 

It did. Red was Alfor’s, and Alfor was dead. Zarkon wouldn’t be surprised if the Red Lion never took another paladin. 

 

He wished he had the other three lions, but they were hidden from him. Black did not give him their location. She didn’t give him anything at all.

 

***

 

Zarkon hated his lion, and she hated him. He had achieved his dream- he held the stars in his hand. He walked with giants and swirled cloud nebulae with his pinkie finger. He danced on dying planets (though not very well) and he made the universe his plaything. When one star died, he created another from its burning ashes. He sang with dark matter and warped space and time. 

 

He took his destiny by the throat and made it kneel at his feet, like he did so many other things. It was his fate. 

 

Maybe one day it would cancel out how much it hurt. 

 

THE END

  
  
  
  
  
  


BONUS SCENE

 

The lions all made a vow together- they would never,  _ ever, _ let another Galra pilot one of them. Not if they lived to be ten thousand years old.

 

_ You know what the boy is, Red, _ spoke Black. Actually, more… implied. They didn’t exactly know how they spoke with each other, and they were each other.

 

_ Yes, _ implied Red.  _ I do. But I sense something different in this one. I believe he is worthy. _

 

_ You know, as we all do, that they are not to be trusted, _ implied Green.  _ We are counterparts. As the arms, you and I have a special bond- and yet I must find fault with your choice. _

 

_ He is worthy, _ insisted Red.

 

_ He is Galra, _ implied Black.

 

 

***

_ I find it hard to judge one individual for the actions of their entire race, _ implied Red.  _ Doing that does not sit right with me. _

 

_ But they have had ten thousand years of brainwashing to make them all… I hesitate to use the word ‘evil,’ but I feel like it is the most accurate term, _ implied Blue.  _ Red, you and I have a special bond as the right side of Voltron. Our paladins bond, and we bond with them. And yet I agree with Green- I can only find fault with your choice of paladin. _

 

_ I cannot very well kick him out now, _ Red implied angrily.  _ He is my paladin. I am his lion. Together, we all are Voltron. _

 

***

 

The lions, for once, had nothing to say to each other. It was not a matter of being far apart from each other. Even during that ten thousand year period of being exiled to the far corners of the universe, they could converse with each other. 

 

The lions just didn’t have anything to say. 

 

***

 

_ So he didn’t know he was Galra, _ mused Black.  _ I hate to admit that that makes sense. _

 

_ I told you all he was a good person, _ implied Red.  _ I chose my paladin wisely. Can you all say the same thing? _

 

_ You know as well as we do that we have a special bond with our paladins. They embody our quintessence, our auras, the most out of any living creature in the universe,  _ implied Yellow.  _ My own paladin is caring and supportive. Blue’s Lance is emotional and faithful. Red, your paladin is hot-headed and impulsive. The flip side of that coin is that he is unstable. You are unstable. Out of all of the unstable non-Galra organisms you could have chosen… _ Yellow trailed off, not sure how they wanted to finish that sentence.

 

Red met them all with a frosty silence.

 

***

 

_ My paladin is good, _ implied Red.  _ I will never let him get hurt. I will not let you slander his name any longer.  _

 

_ Very well,  _ implied Black.  _ We shall accept your choice of paladin. Let us hope that what became of the last Galra paladin does not become of this one. _

  
  
  


THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I recently made a writing Tumblr, check it out and don't be afraid to send requests!
> 
> https://reaadmydumbfanfiction.tumblr.com/
> 
> Please comment below about what you think!


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